Without it my life topples over. And I forget just how delicate it can sometimes be. Temperamental like a child. Her eyes defiant and filled with silent words and censure. Drawing the line... Always daring you, cross...
Things get out of place. Little piles here and there. Bills paid and unpaid scattered across the top of the coffee table in the living room, set aside for another time. Another frame of mind. Waiting for a later that doesn't come for weeks.
And the house begins to absorb the confusion you don't see. Closing you in with arms of clutter to hold you tight until you almost feel secure until you remember just how insecure you really are.It takes a moment of clarity and light. One good lightning strike to wake you from your walking dream. To realize that balance doesn't mean having to get your shit together all at once. It's just one item at a time. One piece of paper filed away. One dirty dish washed and put away. One trip round the coffee table with a dusting cloth. One load of laundry. One bed made in the morning...
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